Lessons Learned
by Jayden95
Summary: Mrs. Jones ponders life at MI6 and everything being an agent has taught her, as she reflects on her first major decision as head of MI6; letting Alex Rider go. My first Alex Rider fic, please read and review.


**Lessons Learned**

**A/N: I'm so glad school's finally over now I only have to pass summer school and this is my first Alex Rider fic so tell me what you think. I don't mind criticism but don't just say "it sucks" tell me how to improve. I want to thank Writer with a Sprite for reading this over and offering her opinion. **

**Disclaimer: I'm not British, male, or an adult so therefore it stands to reason I'm not Anthony Horowitz and do not own Alex Rider.**

Hundreds of bright-eyed youth entered the Royal and General bank in Chelsea and not a single one left unharmed, in fact never left at all. Those who did left with haunted eyes and world weary expressions, and then there was a select few who came back time and time again. They came until they couldn't come anymore. These were the ones with nothing left but their lives and soon they lost those as well.

The boy had entered the bank less than a year ago and there were instant whispers, he looked like his father who had died fourteen years ago but he carried himself like his uncle who died not long before the boy first showed up. Everyone prayed he wouldn't be back but he was. He came back after seeing a man o' war; he came back after seeing death first hand; he came back even when he was shot and his blood left a permanent stain on the concrete outside the bank with a red-haired woman in tow. Then one day he returned alone with shattered eyes that hurt even the well trained spies in the bank. But they knew against all odds Alex Rider would leave the Royal and General alive, forever. He was the first of the Riders to ever leave on his own to feet, and hopefully last to ever enter the glass doors.

On the sixteenth floor of the very same bank, Mrs. Jones, the current head of MI6, sat in her new office sucking a peppermint. She had been head for a grand total of three and a half days and was already confused. In her hands she held the file of their most successful agent to date: Alex Rider. The fourteen year old boy was better than both his father and his uncle, not to mention incredibly lucky. Many claimed the boy had the luck of the devil but Mrs. Jones was not sure she agreed – yes against all odds the boy was alive but trouble had the habit of following him around. The problem was Alex Rider was gone never to return and Mrs. Jones couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

Her ruthless predecessors would say she was making the wrong decision, Alex was definitely the best. But several agents agreed with her, fourteen was much too young to be risking your life. The more pressing matter was whether or not the 'Rider Experiment' could be considered a success. Alex did have a hundred percent success rate, he had succeeded where agents twice his age failed, he had brought down SCORPIA, and all his enemies had the tendency to end up dead preventing any possible revenge attempts. The problem, even one year of active service had been too much but she supposed that could be fixed with a psychiatrist and actual recovery time.

She was not delusional, she understood sacrifices had to be made and in the long run one child was nothing compared to the world. Mrs. Jones hated to admit it but she was much more like Blunt than she cared to admit for she'd learned her lessons well. All agents had to learn their lessons fast, or they would not last long. The problem was she and Blunt had taken a boy who had lost everything and given a year they had destroyed him. Over the years Mrs. Jones had seen hundreds of fresh, young recruits leave broken and she had buried hundreds more. It had taken a long time to stop the pain she felt every time another coffin was lowered; it had taken much longer to realize that there was no other option. She had seen agents with cold, empty eyes become killing machines but Alex's face would haunt her forever.

There was a time several years ago when she would never even have considered using a child but that was long before she had been exposed to the sad reality of the world.

_It was a Sunday, bright and sunny unusual for England but nonetheless she __savoured__ the heat as she walked home. It had been almost two years since she was last in England having spent them in deep cover. She had managed to leave the organization with few detrimental injuries and was happy to be home. The second she opened the door she was engulfed in a hug by her seven year old Kayla. "Mommy," the girl cried._

"_Hi, honey, you've grown so much," she responded pushing black curls off the girl face. She untangled herself from the hug and went over to hug her fifteen year old son Damien, and her husband James. _

_The next day they decided to take advantage of the nice weather and spend the day out in London. "I can't come," Damien said, "too much homework. But can you bring pizza for dinner." _

_The three left after Mrs. Jones gave her son strict directions for the day._ _They returned that afternoon with Damien's favourite pizza but even before they opened the door she knew something was wrong._

_The house was shockingly silent and empty, on the living room wall in what looked like blood someone had painted the word 'revenge'. _

_James and Kayla were instantly taken to a safe house with twenty-four hour protection but three days later James dead body turned up, Kayla was gone, and the same message was left on the wall. _

_Mrs. Jones had returned to the bank in tears, Blunt, then the Deputy said, "Mrs. Jones this is one of the consequences of the job, we have to be willing to make sacrifices."_

"_What's too big a price for this job?"_

"_Nothing. Not one life, not one family, and not one hundred lives, as long as we try to safe the world no price is too small. Nothing, as long as humans live and the earth turns, no sacrifice is too big."_

"_How about our humanity?"_

"_Some do. How else could they send agents to their deaths and remain sane? It's just another sacrifice."_

In order to survive at MI6 she had to sacrifice part of her humanity. The part of her humanity that protested bringing a child into their world, the part of her that valued human life had been all but destroyed. It was Alex's pain filled eyes, an expression she never wanted to see on a child that reminded her she was still human inside. A few more years of this job and she might lose her humanity all together but for now she was still human. So she did the only thing she could, save Alex Rider by sending him away and praying for the first time in years that he had not learned the lessons she had.

She knew a few more years of Alex working for them and the boy would cease to have even the semblance of life; he would be an empty shield. He was a good spy but he was not cut out for their life, few were. It took a special person to be a spy, only those who were half criminal already could even dream of doing it and surviving. How else could you kill and still maintain your humanity? Even the strongest could not resist.

That was lesson she hoped no child had to learn. How could you tell someone that it was okay to kill for good reasons? She knew Alex would not understand, he was not a murderer and would always be haunted by the murder of Julius. She understood, she finally did, evil was the name we give our enemies and good was what we called ourselves but truthfully there is no such thing as good and evil. The world grey, there is no simple black and white, children are blissfully unaware that our world is not as great as we think. They had not destroyed Alex Rider they had taught him lessons he never needed to learn. And if she were perfectly honest she wished no one had to learn.

The night for the first time in years she dreamt of her children. Damien with his impossibly green eyes, sharp wit, and dreams of peace. He was a pacifist and desperately wanted to be a doctor, join doctor without borders, and he was desperately protective of Kayla. Kayla had been the apple of Mrs. Jones eye, a sweet little thing with curly hair that had never had the chance to outgrow Barbie and princesses. Little Kayla, who would never have her first crush, her first kiss, or dream beyond her little world in her little house. The little girl who was so much a child that it hurt to think that she would never grow to see the world. For the first few months after their disappearance she had held onto the little details but soon realized that there was no way her children were still alive. So she had hardened herself against the world and gave her life to MI6.

That night she made her second big decision has head of MI6, she pulled out Alex Rider's file and neatly wrote _The Rider Experiment was a considerable failure, despite Alex Rider's high success rate, he was psychologically unequipped to deal with the life of a special operative. It is our conclusion that children cannot be used as successful operatives without detrimental effects to their mental wellbeing. _

Mrs. Jones had ensured no other child would have to learn the lessons Alex did.


End file.
